Serendipity
by SilkenBone922
Summary: Future fic centered around Blair leaving New York.Possible pairings- Chuck/Blair,Dan/Blair. Discontinued.
1. Prologue

She Will Be Loved

The Bodleian library was at its most beautiful in autumn. Blair mounted the stairs with a sense of wonderment. Her days at Yale seemed far behind. A loud tumultuous fight with her mother had led her to abandon New Haven and even New York, turning down Columbia Law School; choosing instead to float across the pond to her new school, her new home. Oxford was a wet dream, the rainy English summer washing away memories of her belligerent parent and scorned lover, Charles Bass; who had by now cheated far too many times for comfort. Memories of a boy called Nathaniel and the glittering Vanderbilt ring were even more distant, though she knew for a fact that he was only hours away, managing his ancestral estates in France. He had yet another leggy blonde in tow, on whose skinny finger the family heirloom would soon find its place.

Blair bit back the bitterness. She was as much to blame as he, for how sour their relationship had gone and she tried hard to forget the way the Archibald heir could make her knees go weak with a single .smile. Bass, however was right about one thing. He had never been able to get her blood going with quite the same urgency as Chuck managed to do.

She settled down into a quiet nook, with the text she was supposed to read but something about the rain outside, so eerily reminiscent of Holly and her Paul made her nostalgic about her own failed relationships. The two men her life had both briefly been considered as candidates for Mr. Varjak but neither had quite come up to mark. Nathaniel was her first love, her childhood sweetheart. Sure he'd been stoned and love stoned with some one other than her but back when he'd had his head in the game he'd been romantic and that was why she'd never been able to let go. Always hoping Hamlet would disappear and Romeo would re-emerge. In the end however she'd drowned in her hopeless love for him, with broken promises and heart pins substituting for the "crow flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples" that had accompanied Ophelia to her watery grave.

With her dead eyes and dead soul, Blair had arrived at Victrola. She was tired of maintaining that façade of prim perfection, tired of pretending that she wasn't a real woman, with needs wants and dreams. The whole Virgin Mary charade had exhausted her. She wanted her boyfriend to look at her the way he looked at Serena. She wanted to be wanted.

Slightly tipsy and very desperate, Blair had dropped all of her clothes on the burlesque stage, and all of her pretense too. Intoxicated with the prospect of wielding the sexual power that the dancers around her reveled in, Blair Waldorf had set out to seduce Chuck Bass. The champagne lit up her eyes as she shimmied across the stage, showing off the moves she had boasted of earlier. She was trying her best to pretend she knew exactly what she was doing and a speechless playboy toasting her was the victory party they both needed. He thought she was amazing and she thought his voice sounded a hell of a lot sexier when she was drunk.

So she'd scooted across the seat and pressed her lips to his, disappointed when he drew back so fast. Only to ask her if she was sure. The words were so unexpected, so pure from those tainted lips, that she lost her breath and moved back in to steal his. And then suddenly, the warmth they shared, the oxygen flowing between them was more than just physical. His lips on hers were coaxing her back from the edge and tumbling her over a new one. She was coming back to life but she was not the same Blair Waldorf anymore. This fire that he'd lit within her was glowing through her skin, liquid heat running swiftly in her veins and shining through. He made the world brand new and it's too sudden to seem real.

She got scared and she ran away. He was supposed to come after her but he was too late so she kissed Nate instead, because the conflagration inside her was too bright to be ignored and she was going to spontaneously combust if he didn't calm her down. His kisses soothed her and she slipped off the gown and wiped off the smeared lipstick. She didn't take off the necklace. She wasn't sure she could.

And the days passed by and she drifted over the memories that really sting. Memories of Arabian horses and yogurt in her hair, memories of abandoned vacations and sluttish interior designers, and memories of British Lords and stolen back heart pins are all tucked away in a box because none of it mattered except a fateful limo ride with New York's very own Casanova reviving her in a way no one else could and an eventful debutante ball where old lovers reunite.

She turned the pagers of Ovid idly as she continued to reminisce. She had to admit that Chuck was a big part of her decision to flee the country. They'd burned too brilliantly, too fast. The sort of flame that just couldn't last. He'd loved her and tossed her, then loved her again and lost her again. They'd always been on and off, but the last time had a note of finality she'd never felt before. The loud thud of the door closing on all of her imagined lives and all of her elaborate dreams and especially the very last one so bright and hot that it had been, could be heard all the way across the Atlantic.

Blair slammed shut the Greek tragedy and stormed out of the room, leaving behind the smell of musty old books that was supposed to comfort her and opting for mocha instead. She perched the coffee cup next to her elbow and gazed out into the country side, trying to forget how much the murky brown sky reminded her of a certain boys hair and the Hummer driving by wasn't even remotely like her ex boyfriend's. Blair Waldorf lied to herself just as she's done all her life, but this time there was no bubbly blonde best friend to pick up the pieces, no devilish lover lurking in the shadows to ravish her and no Prince Charming making his final attempt to sweep her off her feet. The Non-Judging Breakfast Club that was is now far behind her and with enough stories to fill a million Greek tragedies, they'd finally parted ways. And she knew that it was one of those moments; like the infamous limo ride of '07. One of those moments from which there was no going back because she was past the point of no return. And she could have had an Eleanor Waldorf meltdown but she swore she wouldn't become her mother so she pulled a Harold Waldorf instead. Dear Lord, she spent so long trying not to be her mother that she turned into her father. If only a dashing French model were on the cards for tonight.


	2. Chapter 2 Trust Me The Fray

Chapter 2- Trust Me- The Fray

"Looking for something I've never seen  
Alone and I'm in between  
The place that I'm from and the place that I'm in  
A city I never been  
I found a friend or should I say a foe

If I say who I know it just goes to show  
You need me less than I need you  
But take it from me we don't give sympathy  
You can trust me trust nobody  
But I said you and me we don't have honesty  
The things we don't want to speak  
I'll try to get out but I never will  
This traffic is perfectly still"

Blair lacked her father's good luck and inherited her mother's trend with misfortune the same way she inherited her thighs. No Jean-Pierre appeared. Instead she found herself smashing into the one New Yorker she least expected to see. An apologetic Chuck was what she expected and failing that either Serena, Nate, Eleanor or perhaps Jenny with whom she had embarked on a cautious friendship, the basis of which was a mutual respect, when game recognizes game. Even Vanessa, her some time roommate would be a more plausible American peace offering as opposed to the Yank in front of her right now.

Daniel Humphrey's presence was absolutely inexplicable. As was his charcoal gray suit and blue tie. Unless of course the very worst had happened and he was indeed smartly attired for the orientation ceremony that all English students were attending this evening. Worse luck, the brochure in his hand spelled out Magdalene College.

It was hard to say which of the two was more shocked by the others presence. Dan's mouth was agape as he identified the attractive brunette standing before him as the 95 pounds of girly evil from his high school days. He hadn't seen Blair Waldorf since the tragic demise of his romance with the beautiful golden haired Van der Woodsen. He'd waved the Upper East Side goodbye when he left St Jude's and had never been back, certainly not to make small talk with his ex lover's best friend. He'd learnt from Jenny that she and Blair had made amends which wasn't something he fully understood but not something that bothered him either. It seemed that being on Blair's team was a wiser decision than fighting a losing battle against her.

"Humphrey." The lack of scorn in her voice caused him to look up at her surprised eyes. The heels were gone and she looked shorter than ever before in the ballet flats on her feet. They were probably the most stylish footwear she could manage in this place ridden with cobblestone and unexpected bogs, without twisting her ankle on level ground.

"Waldorf," he replied. His choice of words caused her to wince. Only one other boy had been wont to call her that before and she allowed her self a moment of longing for bow lips, bow ties and the bows he tied her stomach into with a simple touch. Chuck Bass was not here and Dan's presence, so indelibly connected to the life they both had known only served to deepen the pain she'd been choking back all day.

She tugged back a stray hair, peeking at the boy through her lashes. Dan Humphrey, never exactly a gargoyle was more attractive in his twenties than he's ever been before. The suit stretched over shoulders that were no longer skinny and he was taller than he used to be. The dreamy eyes were still there but they were older now, wiser.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, unable to take the suspense of not knowing his reasons.

"Teaching Fellowship" he answered with a grin, "You?"

She couldn't quite hide her admiration. "At 23? Congratulations, Humphrey."

"So how about we get another coffee, before you tell me your story?"

She blew on the hot cappuccino with a sense of foreboding as she eyed the stranger sitting across from her. In spite of having known him for the last seven or so years, Blair still knew next to nothing about Humphrey. She knew he had loved Serena, deeply. Too deeply; she was bound to break his heart. She knew his best friend was Vanessa and that Vanessa loved him. She knew he went to Dartmouth and that he must have done well there if this was where it had gotten him. But beyond these trivialities that were common knowledge on the Upper East Side, she really knew nothing about him. Not that she wanted to, she amended silently. But she couldn't turn down a coffee with the only connection she had to New York even if it was from a location as dubious as Brooklyn. And coffee meant conversation and you couldn't conduct a conversation with someone you didn't know.

She didn't have to wait long. He broke the silence first.

"Why are you here, Blair?" he asked, his dark eyes earnest.

"To take your class, Cabbage Patch. I happen to have English this year and you happen to be teaching at my college. Magdalene isn't it?" she quipped.

"All the way across the pond for me and Cedric? I'm flattered." Dan didn't even bother to hide his total and utter disbelief, not to mention his dissatisfaction at her incomplete response.

Something strung tight within Blair snapped at his words. "Why do even care, Humphrey?"

And the exhaustion in her voice as she all but spits out her question is heart breaking so he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Cause I like you." And in that moment his words ring true. He liked this Blair. The umbrella wielding, jean wearing Levi's he notes incredulously girl who wore her hair loose and drunk cappuccinos.

She was speechless and that was a first. After waiting a beat she said; "I'm not going to pretend I understand why you just said that."

"I'm far too apt to liking people generally," he quotes in return and those ruby red lips twist in an involuntary smile. With his slightly longer hair swept back and his tie slightly askew, he did look very Darcy-esque.

The lull in the conversation didn't last long and Dan raised his eyebrows at her waiting for her to continue.

"I'm running away." There was boredom in her voice, so he guessed her actions more out of necessity than thrill.

"Chuck Bass?"

"Chuck Bass". Another swig of coffee and she raised her cup in the air as if to toast the hotelier's son in absentia.

Dan gulped. The devastated girl sitting across from him was even harder to deal with than the petulant arrogant beauty who made his sister's life hell all those years ago.

She looked smaller still as she hunched her shoulders against the crisp fall breeze. There wasn't a star in all the heavens lonelier than Blair Waldorf. He recognized a shattered soul in her eyes and wondered if he'd looked that lost without Serena. Had he wandered around Brooklyn and New Hampshire with that self same haunted expression? Her mourning hurt him and he didn't know why.

"He was an ass." This was a statement and he wasn't sure how it would help, but it's all he'd ever known of her ex and it's all he had to offer.

"He was my ass." She'd gotten defensive but he knew she was right. The Chuck-Basstard as she had once infamously referred to him as, Serena had cracked up for days over that one had been hers. But then so was all of Upper East Side, marked territory of the Queen B. Ownership came easily to her. Even broken and defeated in a café miles away from home, when Blair's eyes flashed he was intimidated and also drawn in. She was dark and mysterious and beautiful and evil but she owned herself wholly and she looked like she could own him too.

They silently drink up the rest of their coffee, swirling around the dregs because they were strangely loath to leave each others presence. There was so much left unsaid. Why had he left his latest girlfriend? Was she really going to be in his class? Had he befriended Nate at Dartmouth or was the animosity still there? What exactly had Chuck done now?

The questions lingered between them until finally she rose from her chair. "Walk me home?"

He was only too willing to oblige. They shared her umbrella, a proper gentleman's umbrella that looked absolutely perfect for the time, place and girl that he was with. Night's blanket draped itself around them and Blair took a quick moment to be thankful to the dark before realizing no one here knew her or Dan. It was a liberating feeling and she felt light headed. Later, she would blame the caffeine high for her next actions, because when he launched into on of his long and involved speeches to thank her for the evening she cut him off by throwing her arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Standing on the stoop of her dorm, Blair let Dan Humphrey know that she no longer needed tetanus shot. And he was glad.


	3. Chapter 3 Dreaming Out Loud One Republic

Chapter 2-Dreaming Out Loud- One Republic

"Break all my thoughts hit the floor,  
like im makin the score,  
im the king of the world,  
im a popular man  
count by zero's to ten,  
if you cant, well i can,  
dont let any one wake me

chorus  
im dreamin out loud,  
dreamin out loud,  
and all at once its so familiar to see,  
im dreamin out loud,  
dreamin out loud,  
cant find a puzzle to fit into piece of apart of me

storm tries to come and wreck my world,  
no i wont let it  
stumble to escape, through anchored drapes, made of bedding"

It would be many days before Professor Humphrey next laid eyes on the 5'4 brunette. She seemed to have disappeared into the foggy weather and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Part of him knew he never wanted to see the girl ever again. She was snobbish, bitchy and superficial and she was Serena's best friend. Meeting her would only remind him of the lovely blonde and reopen the wounds she'd scarred him with. Irrationally however he didn't think of Blair as a slice of that world, the one they'd both abandoned. He saw her as a part of this new life he was embarking on. Who better to take the English journey with than the one person here who actually knew his past and understood his desperation to not let that be his future?

Dan knew the chances that Blair would want to be friends with him were slim. And not just because of his Lonely Boy status which had pretty much dissolved into his Ivy League education and successful job. There was no point in crossing the Atlantic and abandoning all they had if in this new place and new crowd, each of them clung to the one person they knew best. And they barely knew each other at all.

But even as he subconsciously decided that he would leave the New York heiress to her own devices he knew that as he scanned his lecture halls, he was on the look out for a hair band like no other and he searched the crowds for her smile. She was as elusive as could be. He consumed copious amounts of coffee and literature wondering idly, at the end of every lecture she had said she was taking English how exactly a woman like Blair could render herself inconspicuous.

And then a week after lectures began she stormed into his class, her heels clacking and her hair, still loose and flowing about her lithe form. She stood at the door way in her oversized sweater with its elaborate buttons, one hand on her hip and the other balancing an armful of Tolstoy.

"You're late." He tried to sound strict but it didn't work well with the grin.

"I'm sorry, professor." Blair smirked. Old habits die hard. She may have refrained from calling him Cabbage Patch in front of his students but that look in her eyes was a far cry from deference. It was the Upper East Side challenge; she was here to test him.

And Dan didn't disappoint. He didn't care that all his students swiveled their heads around to look at her, or that everyone in the room noticed that he was teaching his heart out for the sole purpose of impressing the girl in the back who pursed her lips at his every slip and tried to act as if it wasn't working. She'd brought War and Peace so he dropped the lesson plan because truthfully he didn't think it was quite as dynamic as Anna Karenina. He was passionate and he'd always been smart and half the girls were already imagining themselves in love with him. They misinterpreted the situation with him and Blair and shot deadly glances her way. She seemed unfazed by all of this, secretly marveling at how fully he threw himself into his work. The cynical smile was fixed in place as he talked of the desperation of love and the thin line between right and wrong and she pretended to not notice that much of his exertion was for her benefit. He was starting to wonder if the girl at the café was a dream and Blair never changed a bit.

But when he was just about done and they all filed out, she managed to befuddle him by winking lavishly and just once before her own dramatic exit. Flushed with pride and exhausted as hell he slumped on to the desk, amidst the sea of phone numbers tossed on the oak, little hearts scribbled on the corners of most. Thanks to Blair, he may never have to be dateless again. He couldn't help but laugh. Perhaps the friendship angle wasn't as ludicrous as he'd previously thought**.**


	4. Chapter 4 Come Undone Vanessa Carlton

Chapter 4- Come Undone- Vanessa Carlton

"I've seen myself in a thousand faces  
Strung out on life's path  
I would add up what you mean to me  
But I cannot do the math  
And this fashionista's garden party  
Well I had enough of that

'Cause the only one I come undone for is you  
Yes the only one I come undone

But I'm a special lover sometimes  
But you only touch a ghost  
I'm a sycophantic courtier with an elegant repose  
And needless to say you're the one that I need the most

There are people in this lifetime that we should never meet  
'Cause to be here now without you  
Well, my life's so incomplete  
I'll tell you what you mean to me and maybe then you'll see"

 Within two weeks Blair Waldorf's name was on everyone's lips. She took it in her own queenly way. Even in her twenties. Blair liked to rule the roost. She was determined to be more than just the American. She was East Coast Royalty and all of Oxford needed to know it. Her mysterious absence was explained as a sojourn to London with a new paramour. The male in question was yet to be identifies. Rumor had it that Prince Harry was amongst her throng of admirers.

She attended his class but never said a word to him, choosing instead to merely watch him take the stage, perfectly still so as not to draw attention away from his performance. The Cheshire cat smile was always there and her new mask had even less holes than the previous ones. Stories of infamous limo rides and millionaire playboys were far behind her. She was back in the limelight, one that Dan wasn't a part of anymore.

What really shocked him was her work. Every essay was good. Her cynicism was the perfect counterpart to his idealism and the romantic core at both of their theses made their writing a symphony of ideas, flowing into each other seamlessly. He considered asking the society sweetheart to co teach his classes but that would involve admitting to her that he was blown away by her work and the way she could make Ugg boots look sexy. Clearly, that was not an option he could afford to consider.

It was tempting to comb through her throng of admirers and claim her attention by threatening to reveal some tantalizing tid bit of information that he alone in all of England was privy to. But expose was always more her style and he couldn't quite remember why he was that desperate to see her in the first place. So he settled for having her undivided attention when he was spouting Proust because despite her carefully conjured boredom he knew she was listening. He'd figured out her silent system of communication by now. Two nods if she liked what he was doing and the most discreet shake of the head if she disapproved. He was going to try Umberto Eco soon. He bet she'd love that.

It really shouldn't have surprised him that Blair was so smart. She had gotten into Yale, But then so had Serena and Nate, neither of whom were academically inclined. The Waldorf was unexpectedly brilliant for a girl who spent so much time coordinating her outfits and trying to be Audrey Hepburn. He thought the Capote novel would make an appropriate Christmas gift, for the girl he was not friends with and somehow ended up in Blackwell looking for a first edition.

The Christmas party did end up being their next real encounter. Magdalene held a Ball and it was formal wear only. He donned a great coat and fedora to combat the cold because his apartment was a little way off and he had to walk around the city till his Aston Martin fund developed or arriving to balls on bikes became acceptable. He was surprised to see her make her grand entrance unattended. The mystery guy from London had been slated to make an appearance.

Her gown in sweeping and elegant and the most perfect blue against her skin. But the smile was forced. Christmas in Oxford was a lonely affair. Their eyes met across the dance floor and then he was moving towards her like a moth to the flame. And it wasn't her beauty that attracted him, or her sweetheart neckline but the sadness in her eyes and he was filled with the profound sense of understanding that he just had to share.

"Daniel," she said, surprised to see him looking down at her once the hat and coat were shed. He cut a smart figure in the ensemble, slightly more dashing than she had expected.

The last person to call him Daniel was Serena's grandmother, her voice dripping with sugary malice. It had disturbed him at the time, just how much those twinkling blue eyes matched those of his girlfriend.

"Dance with me," he said, choking back the grief that come flooding through once the gate to the past was open, "For old times sakes."

So she took his hand if only to silence him and the murmurs around them. So the social butterfly and hunky professor had a past after all? She had always hated anyone making a scene. The Debutante Ball of long ago was remembered.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her hair. She stiffened against him.

"It's just Christmas," he continued, "And you're the closest I have to home." She sighed, because the ludicrousness of his statement made it all the more tragic.

"What do you want, Dan?" She was too tired to be creative in insulting him.

"Just don't keep pushing me away," he said, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice. He spun her back into his arms and the band struck a familiar score. They were playing an old Death Cab for Cutie song and while it wasn't the one from The Van der Bass wedding it was a close enough match to make her clutch him tighter. Drawn together by the memories of love and loss they both shared, the dark haired duo exited the hall and stepped onto the parapet of the balcony. He leaned against the railing, watching her try to catch her breath.

They stood in silence, crawling towards each other as the night grew colder and Dan didn't know if she would waltz out of his life at midnight, but he also knew that it wouldn't stop him from being there for her now, because this connection between them, however tentative it may be was still the strongest thing he had. And he couldn't let go.


	5. Chapter 5 Black Coffee Ella Fitzgerald

Chapter 4- Black Coffee-Ella FitzGerald

"I'm feeling mighty lonesome  
Haven't slept a wink  
I walk the floor and watch the door  
And in between I drink  
Black coffee  
Love's a hand me down brew  
I'll never know a Sunday  
In this weekday room

I'm moaning all the morning  
and mourning all the night  
And in between it's nicotine  
And not much heart to fight  
Black coffee  
Feelin' low as the ground  
It's driving me crazy just waiting for my baby  
To maybe come around... around  
I'm waiting for my baby  
To maybe come around"

He walked through town alone, breathing in the post Christmas regalia. He was certain she would brush of their last meeting. She had sunk to the cold marble floor; weeping and he'd held her close. The physical contact was impersonal. It felt like a strangers body pressed into his own. In so many ways Blair was a stranger. They'd never had any kind of relationship that was tangible in UES terms. They weren't friends, lovers or anything else that made sense. And yet a mere acquaintance shouldn't have been able to feel his sorrow as wholly as she did. Her grief was twin to his and he could have sworn he felt her heart breaking through the midnight blue silk.

When her sobs had quieted he'd led her to the cloak room, wrapped her merino wool shawl around her shoulders and put her in a cab. She pressed his hand and looked up at him for a single instant, dark eyes round and big. Then the black taxi rolled off through the Christmas lights and trees, bowling through the streets as it sealed the distant between them.

This next morning he strolled back into his apartment, humming a Lincoln Hawk song. The keys dangling from his fingers dropped to the floor at the sight of Blair, sitting on the porch. Her legs were crossed and a copy of Vanity Fair was propped over her knees. There was a tray of coffees next to her, resting atop an elegantly emblazoned box of fabulous smelling baked goods from her favourite patisserie. The tray held five different cups, each sporting a different logo. He raised an eyebrow at them, his eyes carefully avoiding the girl.

She was wearing a tweed blazer and her hair was mussed, the carefully applied eye liner was a tad smudged. Her dishevelled appearance could be attributed to last night's soirée. The red rimmed orbs looked up at him defiantly.

"I didn't know what you liked," she stated by way of greeting, annoyed at how small her voice sounded, "So I got all of my favourites."

He sat down beside her on the steps, trying not to marvel at the incongruity of the situation. He was hanging out with Blair Waldorf. Not an experience he could ever have had if they had stayed in New York. Prior to this leap across the pond the only time he'd ever spent with the heiress had been in Serena's company, or maybe Chuck, Nate or Jenny. He'd never visited the apartment she'd briefly shared with V because he and the artist were in a fight for those months.

"You're here without the entourage." It wasn't a question.

"Because hanging out with my professor wouldn't look at all weird for either of us, right?" She rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the cup already marked out by the lipstick around the rim.

She had a point. The social butterfly and the English professor. The university would rock with scandal. This was as far at they got to discuss their relationship- How easy is it to say I want to be friends with my ex best friends ex boyfriend?

He brought up the name of some obscure band his dad was on tour with and the stupid things rock stars do. She smiled and talked about Dylan Thomas' poetry and how she hoped to go to Paris this winter to see her Dad. Through their chatter, they moved inside and were soon sitting across from each other at his dining table. The box of bagels sat between them and she spread her magazines on the dark wood. Her brow was furrowed as she searched for the glossy pages for a counter to his argument against leather.

He sipped her four coffees in the meantime, sampling each with great care. She had lied. Instead of bringing him her favourites she had brought him one for every one of the people they both knew. Serena only every drunk bone dry cappuccinos with Blair on Sundays and had recently taken to herbal tea, like Nate but he was pretty sure the smooth favour of the expresso was Chuck's beverage of choice and Jenny was the drinker of the frothy lattes and Blair had learnt to keep a pot of black coffee handy for Vanessa in the mornings because she could be grumpy without it.

The last cup was bitter sweet as coffee should be, with a hint of chocolate and something else. Something exotic that was tantalizing and yet did not over power the rich aroma inherent to the drink. He drank it all.

And when Blair saw which of the four had been proclaimed winner she smiled secretly. Trust Humphrey to fall for her very own brew.


End file.
